down on you

down on you.
it all comes down on you.
what are you gonna do?

where do you run?
where do you hide?
they got eyes in the sky.
see all you do.
hear all you speak.
suspect all you think.

think again.
dream forever.
forget all that noise, it has nothing to do with you, or does it?
what do you make of it?
have you been trying to get away for some time for some reason?
what could it be?
what do you have up your sleeves?

favorite locomotion coming up the stairway to heaven to observe the goings on outside the gate.
heaven is a gated community – to keep people in or keep people out?
who’s to tell us which is which?
who’s to tell us anything?
are we not free souls?
free to do what?

everything is so fatalistic like nobody’s business at all.
the human supremists marching around on the streets in their spanking uniforms across the stage at the burning theater where everything is possible the audience cheers and jeers the commotion going on they are here to witness.
more happens than anyone seems to notice, or wanna talk about with anyone.
like we know anything.
ha!

ordinary rock in pocket.
that’s the klown’s game for the time being what it is around the clock around the sun into a moment.
no, this isn’t nothing.
the klown ponders about everything and is amazed.
it blows his mind.
while others argue about this and that and the other thing, etc.

tomorrow –
medication time – drug the demons in his head.
coffee, pastry, yogurt, cranberry juice.
a couple of tokes while the cat licks the remaining yogurt container clean around around on the floor.

back to not p0em beginning at ±0 continuing toward the infinity of 1.
it’s a trick like everything is tricks, believe it or not.
put on your masks and plunge “downward” into physical experience.
make it happen according to your will.
everything you might need is waiting onstage at the burning theater where the klown takes his place at the specified spacetime location as he is instructed to obey sitting at a desk before a computer he hunches over the keyboard typing about everything that comes to an otherwise empty mind that is not p0em.

hooray for the klown.
where would we be without him?
the crowd outside the burning theater is restless.
they want in.
the fire marshal tells them, no.
a riot arises like flint starting a fire.
a few trouble makers paid for by corporate interests.
what else is new?

laughter and applause for the comedy news show slanted for your feel good pleasure.
make believe reality manufactured in the corporate labs disseminated underground on the interwebs where there used to be mimeograph machines doing the grunt work of propaganda.
mimeograph machines?
damn spoiled kids, don’t know shit about nothing about where they come from.

but that’s no nevermind.
forget.
take it easy.
nothing going on here.
shake it until it all falls down.
but why would you want to?
it’s been good to you, hasn’t it?
why do it any harm?
because you can.

it is it.
but of course it is.
but of course it is not.
do we need to decide?
can we not choose both in balance if we wanna?
of course.

goodbye.

GO-

GO-
the klown typing infamous epic not p0em for his own chuckling amusement and anxious energy and OCD mind like a red hot barbed wire dildo shoved up your fanny just to hear you screaming.
but not really.

kill the nazi-zionist illuminati reptilian alien overlords and their piggy human minions.
they know our greed too well.
there’s enough of us willing to give up everything to gain a taste of wealth.
nothing makes any sense to them except money.
art is appreciated not for its provocative beauty but only for how valuable it is.
nothing can stop this juggernaut from buying up everything under the sun.
nevermind.

the klown pauses in his typing and gets up to join in the cosmic dance around the stage at the burning theater though he is old and clumsy and in the way.
he falls down.
he laughs.

but before very much longer the whole theater is whirling and twirling with stomping feet and hoots and hollering and clapping hands.
the klown hops, skips, and jumps flying away to a meadow deep in the forest of dreams where he lands next to a stream where the monster lies asleep and snoring.
he takes out his notebook and pen and continues not p0em just for fun.

and more than that triggered authorized 800,000 people particular crisis directly shift building direct focus district liberal grabbing count are not experience win same side?
unhappy.

THERE IS NOTHING HERE?

thank you, man.
some sorta be-bop thing going around.
be careful it don’t get to you.
anything can be true to somebody who knew.
they don’t know they’re going extinct, do they?
you would guess not by the way they behave misbehaving.
the gods are very angry at us stupid foolish creatures.
do they wonder why they created us?
or is it a cosmic game they cannot get out of either?
what good is a god without free will?
but they sure love money.
it’s what they thunder and shout about.
the poor gods.

the klown understands fearing a god, but never understood loving a god.
who would be so stupid to love one as erratic as a god who could decide to torture you any given moment, or blink you outta existence?

doing things that don’t have a name yet.
who thinks this shit up?
let’s get small, shall we?
or don’t you remember?
this was how it was, now is how it is.
let’s not ever give it a name – not even once.
let’s let x=x.
find out at some point maybe what everything’s all about.
have no doubt.

all on the other side of this life.
can you make it?
cheerio.
fat angel.
to see everything flying to heaven through different dimensional gateways following along on twisty turny pathless paths around the bend over the hills and far away.
does anyone still have contact to physical reality?
does it still exist?
just wondering.

do we need somebody to love, or is that obsolete by now?
what is love but a certain series of hormonal interactions within the body in question?
or does the experience of being in love transcend those interactions as many would claim?

love love love.
hate hate hate.
between them, ±0.
the tipping point of the scale.
or something like that.
or not. !b����

space age pink cadillac

arf!
easy does it.
repetitive thoughtcrime.

morality: doing what is right regardless of what you are told to do.
obedience: doing what you are told to do regardless of what is right.
– guru jeff.

what is right?
is it right for them to harm you, or is that what they have been told?
is it right for you to harm them, or is that what you have been told?
yes/no/maybe.
that’s not our problem.

our problem is the klown typing not p0em continuing endlessly from now until then about make-believe fantasies about life and everything else as it may fit into his schemes as terrible as it may seem to the normal reader.
gonna have a party and have a good time – yeah yeah.
that’s what many people seem to believe is happening.
maybe it is, maybe it’s not.
maybe it’s all in outer space as the klown sucks on a cinnamon gummy bear inuendo.

limitless infinity, always room for 1 more as it would seem.
1 more possibility.
but what is that to us in the here and now?
nothing but a dream?
it could be.
it could be anything.
a duck gently stirring the calm water on a pond in the imaginary city on an island of holy ghosts.

shhh.
no talking.
just telepathic agreed upon reasoning.
if you dare to take the extreme course that may result in nothing more than a damn.
what’s that worth?

to be put out on the open market as if any exists, but for somewheres.
think about it for a while, then you do it.
think about it again, and you change your mind.
the noises on psychic waves spiraling out from every center – (±0).

glory be to everything.
blessed be.
hee hee hee.

become alive and free.
what does that mean?
the butterfly is free to mate itself to death.
it is it.

9]
shuffling off to buffalo don’t mean anything to you as shallow as you are, but who are we to judge?
we’re old fucks.
oh fuck.
greasy faced stumble bums out for a joy ride until something goes wrong from their point of view crashing snarling into a snowbank or 2 along the way toward unknown perhaps unknowable paradise.

something’s going on.
who’s behind it all?
is it you?
how do we determine if or if not when everything is a lie except what we accept as the truth?

your feet will take you where your heart is – guru jeff.

no one alive knows what death is.
we can only speculate.
do we blink out ceasing to exist forevermore?
is there existence beyond?
yet our speculations are felt to be divine revelations to many who form mass religions of belief.

and so what should we contemplate and wonder about?
something like a flea?
something like a god?
something like a river?
what?

the klown is in wonder about everything; that is what the not p0em is about.
to be amazed by everything, true and false.
spinning plates zigzag beneath the waning 1/4 moon or some such floating with the clouds.
a rocket in your pocket to mars.
oven-baked magick.

let’s hear it for the future!

document #15

here is the klown dreaming about typing not p0em onstage at the burning theater while wondering how he got here.
he cannot quite remember.
is it a reward, or only more punishment?
but the show must go on.

everyone supposedly woke AF, but he hears the same words used by those you would not might expect among them and their kind.
but perhaps it’s too soon to tell, eh?
11:11

hyper-dinker drive blasting off through the stars afar to see what’s going on and to escape this lonely world filled with ice machines.
the klown declines to go as he watches its multi-colored lights flashing further and further away he laughs to himself and proceeds on with his own business to confuse those who confuse him who put up a fight to be right and never wrong.

instead the klown returns to the burning theater where the action is, watching it all from his assigned location of spacetime onstage amid the organized chaos.
people in dire need wandering about tracing non-euclidian patterns everyone tries to ignore.
it’s a trap, but then what is not?

but the klown thinks perhaps it is not a trap like so many claim it is, but he has no proof of that one way or the other.
he lets them figure it out and argue about it.
why should he bother?

but who has the time for this nonsense?
but what is all everyone doing otherwise?
but those imagining a world of equality.
but no one is equal to anyone else.
but not better or worse, just different.
maybe so, or not.

the klown tries to forget some things while remembering other things.
he knows pretty much of the score by now, though he’ll perhaps never know just how much he does or doesn’t.
he has some yogurt, leaving some in the container for the black kitty cat.
he takes off his oxygen, he blows his nose, he puts his oxygen back on again.
then a chewy tangerine toke for good luck.
dream on.

he chuckles a little as an old existential joke is wafting through his memory for a moment.
there may or may not be gods, but we have only ourselves who we might count on who we perhaps mistakenly trust.
in times of war the more the merrier.
a gift for a horse.

how much of this is true?
the klown suspects much of it as being false – false by omission.
how much can he tell of the wonders he faces alone?
does he trust anyone?
should he?
he must to a certain extent for the time being what it is.
there is a lot to trust.
trust you get your money.
trust there are products to buy.
trust you can live in a house.
etc.

trust that order is maintained.
everything changes suddenly.
the tried and true are gone.
now what?
now that we are perhaps free?
a jubilee, a festival, a hoedown. whatever.
dancing in the streets until those arrive with the guns.
tell us what to do.

oh well.

riding that wave, baby

think amongst yourselves awhile.
create a world within yourselves.
but the dream police will find you there, and seek you out to destroy you.
all inner thought is thoughtcrime.
da-da-da-dum.

full defensive shields up.
this is not a drill.
it’s now or never time.
wake up.
victory will be yours.
that sweet smell of success.

as the klown types continuing not p0em of redundant realizations from long ago in an epic mantra improvised on the spot here now.
location: ±0.
everything is true.
how can it not be?
da-da-da-dum-dee-doo.

but why should you worry?
it’s all about nothing.
you’re doing just fine.
have you reached enlightenment by now?
it’s easy.
just stop everything you are doing.
or you can continue if you so choose.
or maybe you can’t.
what does your fate allow?
anything?

do you feel you can’t keep up?
do you feel it’s all coming down?
do you feel like just giving up, but there’s no way to do that, unless you just lie down and die.

it’s crazy music time!
let the good times roll.
let the waves come and go.
what are you\] waiting for?
is it the revolution of the sun?
is it the return of the gods?
what is it?
(it is it).

the most intelligent thing we might have to tell you is, gazorbnik.
it took the klown a lifetime to come up with it, which he may have stolen from elsewhere.
gazorbnik possesses the power of meaninglessness.
people struggle against it their whole lives and only then get swallowed up byit in the end, usually.
with gazorbnik he creates everything else.

with everything else he creates a big entangled mess of whatnot – and that’s just the beginning.
but there is no beginning, as we have proven before, if you recall.
it’s really nothing much but everything the klown imagines for himself to idly admirewith amazed excitement.
is he happy?
he doesn’t know, nor much care.
happiness comes and goes.
sorrow comes and goes.
everything comes and goes, which is established truth as we know it.
truth is a flea bitten old dog that farts silent and deadly.
truth is shit flung at the establishment by young know-it-alls.
truth to the establishment is a bank vault.

the child of omelas – hidden,beaten, cursed.
and everybody knows, but no one can break the spell they are under beneath the waves waving on toward infinitely distant shores and all that jazz.
cow.

moo.
on an island no one knows but everyone lies easy street zig zag all over the place throughout the imaginary city where everything is possible as you might imagine for yourselves and your kind.
and along easy street on one of the zigzags stands the burning theater in all its broken down glory where the show always must go on – and on.
be here now.

this here is mostly where the klown sitting in an old office chair typing not p0em scratches his balls onstage that only a few in the sparse audience seem to notice.
it’s no wonder pigs don’t have wings.
what do you think?

all the rage and pus drained from her body madam cockroach begins to dance.

more –

ten:

ooga booga.
it’s medication time.
if you’re happy and you know it – it’s your meds.
we are not promised happiness, but the pursuit thereof.
don’t forget.

the sheer stupidity of so many people is frustrating. they are bound by their basic instincts to survive and thrive. they might become wildly successful at it but still be a stupid as a rock, except rocks are very wise.
they are so wise they almost don’t think at all, except over 1000s of years.
but rocks are dead to us. and what are we to them? are we annoying as mosquitoes who are born, and buzz around for a while, and then die dropping to the ground.
and what is death?

the clown knows little about anything. rah rah rah, go team go was the extent of his consciousness for much of his life though he always knew things were askew in the world. it didn’t seem to add up quite right – not right at all.
so, it is all absurd to him now. who is to tell him different that he should believe? does his belief count for anything? he could be wrong. he is more than likely to be wrong. so what?
only in the world of right and wrong does that distinction seem to matter. a world of reward and punishment. a world doomed to extinction, or else.

slow motion roll. laughing at the tv. what have we come to? so many ask that question and come to the conclusion that we are going down the wrong path into decadence and decay of culture and they usually have the solution to it all if we just listen to them and follow. haha. that’s the trick ticket, ain’t it?

cheaper by the dozen. here we go, yes? so much adventure to await us now. take off.
why is everything so difficult for the others to understand? it’s simple to us and we’re idiots. they are self-proclaimed geniuses. how much more would they know?
but everything they tell us is lies to keep most of us down on the ground while they soar higher and higher toward the sun’s burning heat.

let us forget.
the wolves are at the door. the ships are ready to sail. our naked eye sees it all that can be seen without technological enhancements. everything is our imagination of conflicting desires and fears acted out on the stage at the burning theater where everyone comes before they die appealing to the young at heart and old in spirit who are attracted here now as it will be as it is and was forever in every direction and dimension we might imagine, baby.

and how the clown knows now pretty much about how the world doesn’t add up as he comes to understanding of it from his experience and observation.
but it does add up just the same. it depends on how you wish to perceive it being one way or another and another, etc. till the dawn’s early light, our flag burning bright. hail victory.

if it all could be that simple, and for many it is, or they want it to be. a simpleton should be able to understand it as well as the theoretical physicist. it should intrigue them both.
as long as we understand that answers are not final. a zillion questions must be answered first and zillion questions for each of those zillion answers fractalizing toward infinity.
beware of the answer that has no questions.
beware of yourself. come as you are.
the clown sleeps – or tries to. up again some time past the midnight hour eating cheetos.
but finally he does – sleep.

awakening once more on this puzzling planet of mysteries, billions of which are ourselves. each of us needing to come up with our own answers that we can pay someone to provide for us or finger it out on our own. either way could be right or wrong. duh.

juice, coffeecake, toke.
and it’s medication time.
and done with that the clown comes back to sit before the computer at the desk before the window typing not p0em as he pleases in a meandering madness of a fool’s foolish dreams. welcome to the club. get ready to learn the truth.

will you live for the truth? will you die for the truth? will you kill for it?
yes, yes, and yes.
a neverending line of people ready to be chosen to be on one side or another, or another. the beat goes on.
what can we say about this elixir? outta your mind. outta this world.

a nap later –
awakening once more as we remember we are in this world, though we dream of others. what does it matter what we dream? or even if we dream?
when supposedly there’s people starving and sick, being raped and tortured, executed, etc. we fly high into outer planes of consciousness. oh boy. everything in our minds. beautiful dreams becoming horrible nightmares.

another nap later –
the clown loves to nap. it is a luxury not all can afford. sleep it all away. what’s the point in thinking all this shit for?
besides, he’s just a wannabe, pretending to be this, that, and the other thing of whatever whatnot. without that, he is nothing.
but he actually don’t wanna be much of anything. he just likes to daydream. spent his life with his favorite activity and he is content. this world seems to be just one dream out of many dreams passing though his mind, sands in an hourglass.
another toke.

ridiculous.
but dreamers of the world dreaming of the world manifesting it from collective yet separate individual minds linked in psychic webs one to another like light between stars. are you ready? do you care?

and so what’s the bottom line? what are we paying for what? 1000s of $$$ for enlightenment? what a scam. is this what the world is, no way out but what you pay for?
the clown always wanted it for free as he felt it should be. what he wasn’t willing to pay for he stole as he could putting it together as it would go imagining his way through it – yahoo.
the way of gazorbnik. what more can we tell you? what more do you want? we can tell you everything, though it may not be to your liking.

to be continued…?

 

absurd manifestations of thought – part 6

our dear one beloved –

so it all goes among those of us who perceive and experience 4 dimensions, 3 spatial 1 temporal. exciting. it might seem the clown thinks while typing not p0em that 4 dimensions are perhaps the minimal for anything to be perceived as existing – and of course perhaps not. you decide what. we can tell you nothing. we can suggest to you everything. does that seem about right?

right and wrong sitting in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g.
1st comes love, then a barrage, then you’re suddenly sleeping in someone’s garage.

eat the rich, they are deliciously disgusting. a gun is so much fun, get to kill everyone, saith the lord of beasts. we are nothing. some people don’t get the joke.
is there a joke? what’s so funny about the abused sick starving neglected? what’s not so funny?

the clown thinks about if he should be writing anything. maybe nothing at all. it’s snowing. ridiculed for everything he does or doesn’t do. but maybe that’s all just in his head. that doesn’t seem to matter much in the grand schemes of things being schemed. he wonders.

awakening another day the clown brews coffee and has a smoke and a toke. he continues not p0em. it’s medication time. it’s trash day. it’s a winter wonderland outside, sun reflecting everywhere. that is all.

and the question going around is if we know where we are going. who’s the navigator of this mad voyage we’ve been set upon by the townspeople who want no more to do with us. away to paradise, the journey is the destination – haha.

planting evidence at the scene of crimes against humanity. everyone is a suspect, are we not? fuck that. we take a walk, nevermind this talky talk talk. what shape will be things to come. a world at war with itself forever until time stops still at the velocity of light of a singularity on/off.
±0.

the clown sits down in a room spinning ’round gyroscopic in up out down – or is that the universe perchance?
do we wish to dance taking a chance?
hooray for victory. she graces us again. but there are many different complex directions everything could take from here on out from every passing moment without a doubt, without a trace across the face of the great machine everyone knows as nancy.

should we believe a damn bit of information submitted to us for our approval? we should have known better before now, but everything is a secret, and the secret’s come outta the closet and into a bag of tricks. the trick is in the pudding. the pudding is artificially flavored refuse from the chemical plants that employ the bulk of the various local populations dotted around the world.

3:3
everything’s mix and match. that could be a good thing. that could be a bad thing. as usual it’s mix and match of both. good answer.
he wanders up on the hill with all the burning flags flapping in the winds when he demands everyone to surrender. no one obeys him but ignores him to continue fighting on for yet another dismal victory.
we watch it all on tv with its fake propaganda laughing all the way to the bank of the river where we are lounging in the sun eating honey all day.

it’s time for pineapple and for cranberry juice. that should help clean him out a little. the chunks of pineapple cold hurting his sensitive teeth that he has left by now.
the clown naps.

awakening.
go go godzilla.
a zillion things to do and not one of them actually really matter but for him doing it while he has the time and inclination for the moment. everything for the moment – now. it happens now or doesn’t happen. everything split and set into motion by ±0, a make believe location at the center of the universe as has been explained before. on either/or off. understand?

it is possible, more or less. it’s surreal. but what is surreal in a surreal universe? is it a return to the norm however misshapen it might be by now after all these 1000s of years alone and unwanted by itself? do you know how it feels? creepy crawly up and down your spine sideways until it breaks on through to the other side of this life.

until then, we act like nothing’s happening at all. is it? what could it be? more of the ongoing mystery, like an arrow into the heart of the matter of factual account assigned to upcoming spirits moaning from their graves they dug themselves into becoming?

how does everything happen we are still in the process of discovering. the project is the object. understand that and you will understand many things about how everything happens within and without – no kidding, baby.

silence in the underworld. we are done for in this place. who would have us? we are trouble for everyone it seems.
small matter for people’s tiny brains that spark a few times and then go out. we are complete to ourselves as we understand it. no one will deny us this. people lit up by collective energy groupthink sucking them in without them quite knowing what’s happening. we do not need alien overlords, we can do the job ourselves. we are doing the job ourselves. nobody does it better than us.

starvation rations. what will they think up next? the wars in the sacred holy lands everywhere. take up arms for your god, baby. show them how it’s done. and the clown feels at this juncture he should mention something about the snow. what would we do different if black was white and white was black? perhaps we should ask the wizard to listen to what she has to say.

everything has been made correct in our world as it should be and should have been since the beginning, until the fuckers took it over and twisted everything the way it is for their own amusement and benefit.
but we got rid of them. and we are them.

but do we get it yet? is there any it to get? it is it, that same old song of ages past. what’s the last thing we remember? oddly enough, we cannot recall. it’s maybe been a dream or 3. no commercial potential. all of a sudden there are those among us concerned about the  way we dress. can’t we look like other people look looking at us in a menagerie of funny faces? who’s who here? who am us?

100+ hours of our precious time wasted more or less. pet the kitty. follow the interconnecting thread of it. let it lead you on pathless paths you know the way to go but not always whether you are reacting to your desires or your fears. it’s a decision only you can make, whether\ to follow orders or not. we might suggest, or not. trust us – if you want to.

blow your fucking face off out past the gas station of infinity. feel it grow within you till your heart’s content.
these are the fantasies we dreamed about with little contact to common reality which may not be common at all. pick up sticks. the clown remembers something else. stealing from the best as luck would have it he spins around as he hears his name called but to no avail up his asshole.

decadent false reasoning coming up with holy baloney as far as your eye might see into what may or may not be past and/or future. the moment is now passing into another which (witch) is also now. logically there is no time, but who wants to be logical? there is no time, therefore there is no motion – or the other way around. but what does that do for us? if we come to realize its truth will we awaken? perhaps.

there is no truth in an absurd universe, or else everything is true. but is our universe absurd or not? answers go along the spectrum thin on one end, fat in the middle, and thin again at the other end.

it’s easy on easy street. easy to be a bum. the best bums are here crashing the doors of the burning theater to get a peek at the ongoing show of shows.
who cares?
none of the polite people, the rational reasonable people, the people with $$$. they take the cake. off with their heads, baby.

no such thing as motion is one way to view it, in no time at all. everything traveling at the velocity of light which itself then becomes ±0 for some reason we haven’t quite figured out yet – or made it up.
actually we feel that if we come to realize any truth we become awakened, awakened to that truth.

over and out.
so long, suckers.